The Difference A Letter Makes
by The Moon Potato
Summary: What happens when one too many authors misspell a particular word? Total crack, of course! Harry gets a delivery in the mail one day, and a special power is revealed. Planned as a series of one-shots set in different canon scenes, but might be expanded into a full story depending on how things go.


**The Difference A Letter Makes**

 **Chapter 1: The Arrival**

 _A crackfic by The Moon Potato_

 **Author's Note:** This pretty much came about on the spur of the moment, after reading one too many "pet peeves" threads on the HPFanfiction subreddit. As such I'm pretty much winging it. I do have a few more ideas for some scenes to write, though. My idea was to present it as a series of one-shots, but it may morph into a full story if I get enough inspiration.

I'll try and keep ANs short and at the bottom of chapters from now on. Hope you laugh as much as I did when I thought of the premise!

* * *

When his school had announced the date for their annual athletics carnival, Harry had been excited along with the rest of his class. A day off school, out in the sun, was right up the alley of nearly every 9-year-old. For Harry, it had the added bonus of also meaning no Dudley. His cousin, along with best friend Piers, was in a different house.

That excitement had lasted just an hour, until he had arrived back at the Dursleys' house.

"You'll _not_ be going," Uncle Vernon had said, a slight ruddy tinge colouring his face. "No need too give a little show-off like you any more attention."

Harry had accepted it with resignation and a short, "Yes, Uncle Vernon." There were better times to argue, he thought. Maybe, if he was quiet enough, he might finally get to go to the zoo this year.

The real reason, he suspected, was that if he were allowed to compete, he'd no doubt beat Dudley and maybe even win a ribbon. Dudley might be fast for his size, but he was no match for Harry. Spending every recess and lunch running from the daily "Harry hunts" had made sure of that.

That didn't change the fact that he was now stuck inside on a beautiful Tuesday morning, scrubbing the oven. Aunt Petunia had gone out to brunch with some of the other neighbourhood wives, and had been quite explicit in hat she expected to be finished by the time she returned.

Harry was jolted out of the monotony of his work by the trademark _tinkle, plop_ of the postman pushing the day's mail through the letterbox. He was even more surprised, however, when he heard a voice coming from the hall.

"... stupid bloody brute, bashing me around like that, why I ought to ..."

He made his way to the hallway slowly, snatching up a bottle of oven cleaner just in case.

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there?"

"I am, not like you'd notice, you idiot. Aren't you gonna manhandle me like everyone else, you big, ugly..."

Harry blinked. Amongst the mail, sitting on the doormat, was a small box with a FedEx logo stamped on the side. A small box with a FedEx logo stamped on the side which, at present, appeared to be yelling obscenities at him.

"Good for nothing humans, always-"

"You can talk?" he asked, incredulous.

Despite not moving, he got the feeling the package was glaring at him.

"No, you're just hallucinating... Of course I can talk, you numpty. Now get me out of here before someone comes along who wants to tear me apart!"

Harry leant against the wall, oddly calm all things considered. Sometimes, strange things happened around him. Once, he swore he'd turned his teacher's hair blue, though no-one else believed it was him. A talking package definitely took the cake, though.

"That's not normal, you know," he remarked.

"Being ripped apart? You have no idea what I've seen. It happens everyday!"

"I meant packages talking."

"Watch who you're calling a package, kid," the box replied, and huffed. "I'm a priority mail satchel."

Harry raised an eybrow and looked at the package. It did indeed have _Priority Mail Satchel_ stamped on the side. The package simply huffed again.

"Anyway," it continued, "some of us can. Bloody big brutes never listen though."

"Well, most people can't hear you at all."

"Not that they'd care, even if they could," it muttered, before perking up. "You know, we have a name for people like you."

"Oh yeah?" Harry replied.

"Oh yes."

Harry's other eyebrow joined his first. "And?"

"Parcelmouth. You're a parcelmouth. Now would you hurry up and put me somewhere I won't be opened?"


End file.
